Bringing her home

When I woke up the next morning, I crept into the living room to see if Doug was still there.  The couch was empty but I still glanced outside to see if his car was in the driveway.  It wasn't.  I hadn't changed out of the clothes I wore the day before and it didn't even occur to me to change them now.  All I wanted was to get my daughter and bring her home.

Certain things popped into my head on the drive to Snoqualmie:  You never ask a child who has accused someone of sexual abuse a lot of questions.  This could be called coaching and God knows I didn't want to do anything that would put ideas into her head.  I knew that as bad as I wanted to shake her and yell 'what do you think he did?' I couldn't...  I would have to wait.

However, on the way home, we did have this little conversation:

'MaKayla, I need you to understand how serious this is.  This could ruin his life.  He won't be able to be around his kids or even Austin (his youngest brother) ever again.'

'I know mamma, it's serious.'

When we got home she immediately wanted to see if her friends could play.  Well of course she did...  she had been gone for 6 days.  But I told her no.  I had this overwhelming urge to keep her under lock and key.

So now a bit more background information.  A few weeks earlier, Doug and I had finally met the neighbors four doors down.  We hadn't spent much time with them, but during one front yard visit one them, Jodie, had confided in me that her girlfriend Jackie had been horribly raped and repeatedly molested as a child.  Why she told me that, I don't know, but these women became invaluable friends and allies in the following weeks.

I walked to their home and saw Jackie in the living room, as welcoming as always.  She asked me what was wrong immediately and I told her.  She said Jodie wasn't home yet but to please come by later.

I spent the next hour wandering aimlessly around the house.  I sat down and went through all of our DVD's, pulling out the ones that came with Doug and the ones I knew were his favorites.  I didn't have boxes but knew he would need his clothes, so I put them in large garbage sacks.  I piled these things on the loveseat.

I went back to see Jodie and she was home...  and pissed.  

'I just can't believe this.  Allie, he was here last night and he was fine.  Nothing was wrong at all.  Have you confronted him?'

I told her that I had, but didn't tell her much of the conversations that took place.

'Allie he was here.  He came over, asked us if we needed any help fixing our truck.  He was telling jokes and laughing.  He was outside playing with his son and laughing with his kids' mother.'

I sat down, not knowing what to say...  that was happening a lot, my loss for words.

Jodie asked me if I had called the cops.  It was the first time I had even thought of them.

'Doesn't CPS do that?'  I asked.

'I don't know,' she said.  I picked up the phone and called.  I explained to the operator what had happened in the last 24 hours and she said it was better if the police and CPS were on the same page at the same time.  She was sending out the sheriff.